


Preparing Ron

by JadeFalcon



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Accident, Bathing/Washing, Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Freckles, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Love, Major character death - Freeform, Mild Sexual Content, Multi, Necrophilia, Other, Quidditch, Sad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-01
Updated: 2014-09-01
Packaged: 2018-02-15 15:25:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2233992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JadeFalcon/pseuds/JadeFalcon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ron dies during a Quidditch game.  It falls to his friends and family to prepare his body for eternal rest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Boom!

**Author's Note:**

> The idea for this story popped up into my twisted little head one night a while ago as I was dozing off in bed. Since then, it's been bouncing around inside my skull, begging me to do something about it. My goal when typing up this story was to show the absolute love that Ron's family and friends have for him. I wanted to reflect this in the gentle way that they prepare his body for burial; full of love and sadness; methodical in their actions and without shame or embarrassment. I imagine the scene as very solemn, and very raw, with a firm and silent resolve hanging over the people who come to visit him. His preparation is unusual in the sense that such procedures are not performed regularly by today's standards. However; that is also exactly what makes it so unique and necessary. Only by preparing his body for burial, can the people closest to him truly get a chance to say goodbye and show how much they love him.
> 
> This story was very difficult for me to write; I shed a few tears here and there at times. So I hope I can do this little one-shot justice to my writing skills. I hope you enjoy. This takes place in Ron's 6th Year.
> 
> After 4,300 words in one day, I decided to divide this story into 2 or 3 chapters. I apologize for the confusion and any cliffhangers that may result.

When Harry saw Ron, he knew.

He knew.  The icy grip of shock had lurched forward and seized his heart.  He had almost fallen off of his broom in horror, and it took all the strength he could muster to land safely.  He staggered off of his broom just as Madam Hooch was calling 'time" on the pitch.  A suffocating silence descended upon the field, and nobody seemed to breathe.

Even from where he landed 20 feet away, Harry knew that Ron was dead.  His best friend.  A part of his life.  A part of his soul.  Gone.

Harry somehow found himself moving through the thick fog lying still across the top of the grass.  The fog wrapped like a gentle blanket in a perfect silhouette around Ron's body, as if to hug an old friend.  Harry wasn't aware that he had dropped his broom dully behind him.  Maybe...he wasn't dead?  Just injured!  Merlin, please... _please._

As he stepped closer, the pleading in his head became a silent repeating prayer.  _Please God no, Please God no, Merlin Please God no._

_No No No No No..._

"Ron?" he croaked.  His voice barely escaped his lips.  "R...Ron?"  Harry gasped, trying to find the air that was desperately robbing his lungs of life-giving breath.  "Mate?"

_Please God no Please God no Please God no PLEASE GOD NO!_

"No..." his voice, dull and lifeless, escaped his lips in one uttered word as he sank to his knees next to his fallen friend.  He reached out his hand.  If he could only touch him.  He _had_ to touch him.

Then the image before him slammed full-force into his consciousness.

Ron's eyes, blue and beautiful even in death; staring at nothing from his curled position.

The stream of blood from his collapsed esophagus; from his lips down his chin and covering his neck.

His head bent at an awkward angle.  Necks shouldn't bend like that.  They _don't_ bend like that.

Just as quickly as Harry's hand reached out, he yanked it back.  A cry of anguish tore from his throat; tears sprang from his eyes.  He slammed the back of the same hand against his mouth to silence any further sound; his arm trembling uncontrollably.

But grief is cruel.  Grief does terrible things to strong people.

Harry's stomach gave a heave, and he slammed his eyes shut.  A sob escaped his lips behind his hand and he keeled over.  His forehead came to rest on Ron's shoulder.  He gripped Ron's Quiddich robes tightly; his nails puncturing the fabric.  Harry couldn't help it; couldn't have stopped them even if he tried.  A string of sobs ripped themselves from his chest; each one shook his body uncontrollably.

Shock settled across the pitch.  The only movement was from hands covering mouths in horror.  In the stands, house members grasped one another while gazing down at the scene before them.  Some wept openly.  Others were too shocked to do anything other than shake their heads silently.  The impact of Ron's body hitting the ground had been so violent that many could hardly believe what they had just seen.

In his grief, Harry failed to notice the pounding of feet thundering across the pitch, or Hermione crying out Ron's name.  Then suddenly, she was there; her long brown locks draped around Harry as she hugged him fiercely from behind.  She stretched out her hands to Ron's face as tears flowed freely down her cheeks.  She cupped Ron's left cheek gently in her right hand and stroked his other cheek with her left.  Her fingers stroked firmly against his sweaty, freckled forehead, running down his nose as if her fingers could trace every freckle and store each one in her memory.  His skin was soft; still warm with his just-ended life.  And his eyes.  Calm.  Peaceful.  Brave.  Reflecting the blue above as if challenging the very sky itself to find a blue more beautiful than his own.

Soon, the only sounds on the field was the heart-wrenching sobs of two friends sharing their grief together.  The wind carried their agony in waves around the pitch; whispering incoherent words of loss and sorrow into the ears of everyone present.

 

_***The Next Day***_

 

Harry blamed himself.  He would _always_ blame himself.  For as long as he lived.

The past twenty-four hours had been nothing short of Hell itself.  A seemingly endless array of tears and crying reverberating throughout the entire school.  Dumbledore declared "Four Days of Mourning", in which there would be no classes.  He wanted his pupils to reflect on the life of Ronald Weasley, but also, their own.

The Weasley family had all come to Hogwarts in a state of shock.  Their sorrow tore at Harry's heart whenever he met the gaze of any of them.  This family now knew the pain, an unspeakable agony, of losing a son.  A brother.

A child.

Harry very much doubted if he would ever cry again.  It seemed that all the tears that he would ever shed in his life had been emptied in the past day.  He was exhausted mentally, emotionally, and physically.

And it was all Harry's fault.

If only he had just said "no" when Ron begged him to let him be a Seeker during the Ravenclaw versus Gryffindor match.  All he had to do was say "no".

"Come on, mate!"Ron insisted excitedly."Just this once, and I'll never ask for it again!"  He had even nudged Harry in the ribs when he asked.

He knew that Ron had horrible coordination on a broom.  He barely managed to scrape by as a Keeper!

But he was his friend.  So Harry agreed to trade his position at the goal posts as Keeper so that Ron could play Seeker.  He even lent Ron his Firebolt.

_It was too much broom for him,_ Harry thought miserably.

The match had been going okay; Ravenclaw wasn't putting up much of a fight.  Which was part of the reason that Harry had agreed to let Ron stand in as Seeker.  He knew the stakes would have been much higher if this had been a match against Slytherin.  There's no way Harry would have let Ron play Seeker during that match.  But Ravenclaw was a lesser opponent.

Harry spotted Ron attempting many daring plays during the game.  This made Harry's heart leap into his throat on several occasions.  _God, he really is unbalanced,_ Harry thought.  He considered scolding Ron, but when Ron passed by the goal posts with a giant grin plastered across his freckled face, Harry just couldn't help but smile too, and bit his tongue.

Harry spotted it first.  The Snitch.  All the years playing Seeker had developed his senses into a lightning-quick sight picture.

He yelled out to Ron, who followed his gaze and finger to where Harry was pointing.  Then he was off like a rocket.

From almost two-hundred feet up in the air, Ron blasted from floating to ninety-miles-an-hour in less than one second.  He sped towards the ground at a sixty-degree descent.  His bottom lip sucked between his teeth in concentration as he focused on the Snitch, which was hovering just seven feet above the ground.

_He's banking too sharply!_

From his vantage point as Keeper, Harry put the scene together in nano-seconds.  He realized that Ron was going too fast and banking too sharply.  He wouldn't be able to pull out of that dive before hitting the ground.  At that speed, there simply wasn't enough room.  And not enough time.

"PULL UP!" he screamed."RON!"

But it was too late.  With a sickening _crunch_ , the front of the Firebolt struck the ground with such force that it shattered the broom into three pieces.  Ron was hurled forward and smashed into the ground so hard that his body left a crater almost a foot deep and three feet wide in the soft grass.  Harry watched in horror as the broken body of his friend cartwheeled four times before coming to a rest sixty-five feet from his point of impact.

Ron never moved again.

Harry shut his eyes at the haunting memory as he leaned his head against the Gryffindor Tower window.  He felt the sunlight pouring through; warming his face and torso.  He found himself hyperventilating at the memory of yesterday's accident, and slowed his breathing.  He steadied himself against the windowsill, and focused on taking in deeper breaths.

Once his heart-beat lowered and his breathing was under control, he opened his eyes.  And more memories flooded his brain as he gazed out the window to the grounds below.

Ministry officials had immediately been summoned, as is Standard Operating Procedure any time a death occurs at Hogwarts; whether by accident or intentional.  The whole pitch had been cleared, and students were ushered back to their dorms by each Head of House.  Photographs had been taken of the scene.  Measurements, wind conditions, weather conditions; all had been factored in meticulously and documented with care.  Dumbledore himself had stood by a short distance away and remained on the scene, answering questions and keeping watch with watery eyes.

It had taken McGonagall, Madam Hooch, and Dumbledore to gently move Harry and Hermione away from Ron so that the Ministry Officials could conduct their work unimpeded.  Both teens grief was raw, and they lashed out violently in protest when first approached.  A compromise was eventually reached and Madam Hooch agreed to stay with them a short distance away.  The flight instructor cried quietly as both teens sobbed at her feet in each other's arms.

After three agonizing hours, when sobs turned to moans of despair and anguish, the Ministry Officials concluded their work.  They thanked Dumbledore, shaking his hand and muttering condolences.

"What will you do with Mister Weasley's body?  Would you like us to take him away?"  The lead investigator, a wizened, short man with a long pointy grey beard asked Dumbledore.

Harry overhead the man, and was having none of that.  "Don't you FUCKING DARE!" he snarled.  Madam Hooch placed a calming hand on his head.  "He stays with us!" shouted Hermione, her tear-streaked face matching the ferocity of her words.

Dumbledore patted the man's shoulder reassuringly, and waved a calming hand towards his grief-strickened pupils.  _"_ We take care of our own, Matthew." he addressed the wizard by name.  "But thank you."

Matthew nodded, and picked up the large briefcase that had accompanied him to the pitch.  He ushered his investigators off the pitch, each one stopping to offer condolences to Dumbledore.  After they were gone, Dumbledore summoned a red body-bag.  He gently and carefully levitated Ron's body into the bag and sealed it.  He then levitated the bag carefully back towards the school, with Madam Hooch, Hermione, and Harry bringing up the rear.

Ron's body had been sent to the Hospital Ward, where Madam Pomfrey would inspect him, document his injuries, and determine a cause of death.

Harry continued to stare blankly out the window.

_It's all my fault.  All my fault.  I killed my best friend.  A man who I shared a part of my soul with._

Harry's throat was suddenly gripped by an agonizing vise.  He sucked in a gulp of air, trying to clear the blockage.

_Come on_ , he thought.  _No more tears.  God, no more pain, please!  Merlin, please, it's too much.  It hurts too badly._

Harry collapsed onto the windowsill, burying his face in his hands.  His breathing came in ragged breaths.

_I've got to see him.  I've got to apologize to him.  I've...I've got...to_....his chain of thought trailed off.

_See him.  Go and see him._

He rose shakily to his feet.  Like _hell_ if anyone was stopping him.

 

End of chapter 1.  Thank you everyone for reading!  Comments are greatly appreciated.


	2. Freckles At First Sight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry visits Ron's body at the Hospital Ward.

_***Fifteen Minutes Later***_

Harry knocked firmly on the entrance door to the Infirmary.  A minute went by before the door creaked open.  The face of Madam Pomfrey peered around the door.

"Mister Potter!  Are you hurt?" her voice ripe with concern.

He shook his head.  "No ma'am."  He gathered his strength before speaking.  "I want to see Ron.  I _need_ to see him.  Please."

Madam Pomfrey studied the young man in front of her for a moment.  _He's clearly suffering the effects of Post-Traumatic-Stress_ , she thought to herself.  _Merlin, he looks awful._

Indeed, Harry did look awful.  He had only about two hours of sleep in the past day.  His eyes were downcast, puffy and red.  His mouth, which Pomfrey knew could blossom into the handsomest of smiles, was a permanent frown.  His lips chapped and chewed.  His nose red and rubbed raw.  His cheeks, usually tinged with a rosy blush that he inherited from his mother, were pale and wane.

Pomfrey chose her words carefully.  "Mister Potter...Harry...this is not the best time, my dear," she said gently.  "If you would like to return in one day's time, I promise..."

Harry cut her off.  "I'm not going anywhere," he snapped.  "Dammit..." he lowered his voice and softened his tone.  "Please.  Please, I need to see him.  Please, Pomfrey."  His voice cracked.

Pomfrey sighed inwardly.  This really _wasn't_ a good time.  Having been a Healer for almost 40 years, she had seen her fair share of death.  Death wasn't new to her.  And while she did mourn the death of Mister Weasley, she also had a job to do.  She owed it to his family to make him proper before his funeral.  She would have to be open with him.  "Harry, please understand that I've only just finished my examination of his body.  There are still many things that I need to do before he's presentable for viewing."

Harry shrugged.  "I don't care what he looks like, Pomfrey."  He met her gaze.  "I don't care what state his...his body is in.  I just want to see him.  I'm not leaving here until I do."

Madam Pomfrey signed.  "Very well."  She pushed the door farther open and beckoned him inside.  She shut the door behind him and applied a locking spell.

Harry followed Madam Pomfrey into the main ward.  And there he was.

Ron was laying on a specialized gurney that had been conjured into existence with a well-placed charm.  His body was nude and uncovered.  His handsome, red hair hand been brushed strait back out of the way of his face, and his locks lay flat against his scalp.  His mouth and eyes were closed, and no signs of stress marred his freckled features.

Admittedly, it was not what Harry was initially expecting.  Having stopped in his tracks at the first glimpses of Ron's body, he took a deep breath.  Madam Pomfrey had already made her way to the other side of the gurney.  She had her arms folded in front of her, studying Harry.

Harry walked closer until he was right in front of Ron.  He stood on Ron's right side.  Looking down, Harry noted that Ron looked even more peaceful up close.  _He's so handsome,_ Harry thought to himself.

"I've completed my examination," Madam Pomfrey said, gesturing to a mound of scrolls on her desk.  "My reports are all complete.  I'll be sending them off to the Ministry first thing in the morning."

Harry nodded, still gazing down at Ron's face.  Strangely, he did not feel as saddened as he thought he would.  If anything, he found that he felt very peaceful and calm.  _Maybe this is just what I needed_?  He thought to himself.

Harry looked up.  "How did he die?"

Pomfrey stepped forward, looking down at her two charges.  "In short, he died from massive, blunt-force-trauma."  She gestured to each of his injuries as she continued.  "He suffered a broken C3 vertebrae and a fractured C4 and C5 vertebrae.  He also suffered several broken ribs, a dislocated left shoulder, a broken right arm, a fractured pelvis, a fractured skull, a collapsed right lung, and a crushed esophagus, which was a result of his broken neck."

The peacefulness that Harry had experienced just moments before quickly gave way to a new bout of horror as Madam Pomfrey read off the list of his injuries with clinical precision.  When she finished, he gasped.

"He suffered... _all of that?_ Jesus...Merlin...." his voice cracked and his eyes watered.

Madam Pomfrey looked up, and quickly realized what she had done.  "Oh love," she started gently.  "I'm sorry I made it sound like that."  She continued.  "Ron died instantly, sweetheart.  He felt no pain from his injuries."

She let that sink in before continuing.  "Ron experienced what is called 'Spinal Shock'.  What that means is that, when his neck broke, he experienced instantaneous death.  The sudden trauma to his neck was such that there was no way he would have survived such an injury.  His body stopped functioning almost immediately, and he would have been completely unconscious.  He died instantly on impact."  Pomfrey paused.  "I promise you, that despite his injuries, he did not feel any pain."

Harry wiped his eyes and nodded.  He let out a sigh of relief.  _Thank you.  Thank you, Merlin._ This comforted him greatly.

Harry looked back down at Ron's freckled expanse.  A thought occurred to him.  "His skin is flawless.  I don't see any bruising.  Was most of it internal?"

Pomfrey nodded.  "Yes, but that's not all.  He did have some bruising, cuts and scrapes that I had to repair methodically.  Because his body is no longer alive, many of the spells that would work on a living person to heal visible and internal injuries will not work on him.  Or any other deceased person, for that matter."

She continued.  "Over the years, magical morticians have used various improvised charms to 'heal' a deceased person's injuries.  I've been trained and licensed as a mortician, so I know all the tricks.  It was these charms that I used to 'clean him up' as I went about my examination.  Each time I documented and catalogued an injury, I'd follow it up with a charm.  It's an entire science whose technique has been perfected over hundreds of years."

Harry looked at her in amazement, and she beamed back proudly.  "He looks amazing, Pomfrey.  Really."

She bowed slightly.  "Thank you Harry.  It is my job and duty as a Healer to ensure that the Weasley family can view their son without any visible scars,  The less trauma that is visible, the more comfortable the viewing experience will be, and the easier they'll be able to bury their son, knowing that he's buried with the proper care and respect."  She continued.  "As a Healer, knowing that I can give such peace to families of deceased persons is a great reward to me, and something that I take very seriously."

Harry acknowledged this with a nod.  A silence fell over the two, until Harry spoke up once more.  "What happens to him now?"

Madam Pomfrey looked down at Ron.  "Well, now I re-apply a Non-Decomposition Charm and wash his body.  These two things will ensure that he does not decompose quickly."  She paused.  "The charm also keeps his natural skin-tone intact, and also allows his limbs to move around freely, without impediment from Rigor Mortis.  This will allow his body to fit more easily into his final clothing, and also into his casket."

Harry looked slightly intrigued by this.  "How will you wash him?"

Pomfrey walked over to her desk and picked up a flask.  "Severus Snape dropped this off early this morning.  It's a washing potion, highly concentrated, that I will use with clean silk towels and scents to wash into his skin and his body.  It's a highly important, very solemn part of preparing his body for eternal rest."  She placed the flask on the gurney next to Ron's head.  "Many believe that such a washing ritual is essential to making sure a loved one makes it peacefully into the Afterlife.  In some cultures, many come together to wash their loved one's remains as a sign of love for the departed,"

Harry considered what Madam Pomfrey had just told him.  "When will you begin?" he asked.

"As soon as possible," she replied.

Harry organized his thoughts.  Would they help him?  For that matter: would Madam Pomfrey allow him?

Madam Pomfrey could see the wheels turning in Harry's head.  She knew what he was thinking.  It was not uncommon to assist a Healer with such Preparation Rituals.  In her forty years as a Healer, she had accepted the offer many times before, and was always pleased with the way the rituals turned out.  Some Healers didn't allow anyone but themselves to prepare a body.  She was not one of those people.

Granted, it was not for everyone.  She had come across many people in her career, aspiring Healers included, who could not go near a dead body if it meant saving their own lives.  But Pomfrey often found that, with those who were not queasy, much peace and tranquility could result when performing the Cleaning Ritual with other loved ones, friends, and family.

"Madam Pomfrey...may I..." Harry started.  But she cut him off.

"Of course you can, Harry."  She smiled gently at him.  "I think Ron would appreciate it, knowing that such a good friend like you attended over something as personal as his body."

Harry sighed.  "Thank you, Pomfrey.  To be honest, I'm already at such peace, just being here with him."  He looked down at Ron's freckled face.  He reached out a hand and caressed Ron's cheek gently, cupping it with his palm.  His skin was so smooth and soft to the touch.  Harry was surprised to find Ron's flesh just slightly warm.

"Have you used a Warming Charm on him?" he asked, his hand still cupping the freckled cheek.

"Yes I did," she replied.  She didn't particularly like the feel of skin that was ice-cold from lack of blood-flow.  She had long-ago made it a habit of applying a minor warming charm on each deceased person she cared for.

Harry nodded, and continued his examination of Ron's body.  His hand made its way down to his toned chest.  Harry marveled at the hundreds of freckles that his fingers passed over.  Each one was unique; no single freckle was the same.  He never told Ron this, but his freckles were the primary thing that Harry loved so much about his skin.  Some were brown, some beige, some slightly orange, and yet others were pink and tan.  Some were faint, others were dark.  Still, some were as small as pin-pricks, and yet others were as wide as pencil erasers.  Almost all of the spots were crammed together in many places, as if jousting for control of the broad expanse of his skin.  Harry found Ron's freckles to be a beautiful rainbow of color that gave such life and mischief to his skin and body.

Harry's mind wandered back to one morning early in his Fourth Year, when he had a particularly nasty nightmare.  Ron climbed into his bed and held him while he thrashed about.  He held Harry close until his thrashing subsided.  He stayed in bed with Harry, and eventually fell asleep.  Harry was surprised to wake up early that morning, just after sunrise, to find a shirtless Ron lying next to him on his back.  Ron snored softly.  It was then that Harry had taken a look down the pale torso of Ron, admiring the lithe gracefulness of his chest and abdominal muscles.  He noted the pale nipples as well, watching them rise and fall with each gentle breath that entered and exited Ron's chest.

It was on this morning that Harry secretly discovered his love for Ron's many freckles.  He didn't have as many back then, but he still had hundreds to look at and wonder over.  Each spot was well-spaced from its neighboring freckle.  Harry remembered gently tracing the freckles on Ron's shoulder as he continued to sleep.  The patterns of freckles there provided his skin with a warm glow, and Harry thought he could stare at them for hours.  He eventually started counting them softly beneath his breath, but soon lost count.  Not that it really mattered to Harry,

When Ron woke sometime later, Harry still hadn't taken his eyes off of his fascinating skin.  Ron blushed as he realized that he had fallen asleep in his friend's bed.  He mumbled an apology, and swept himself off of the bed to get ready for the morning ahead.  As he sat up, Harry took notice of the hundreds-more freckles scattered across Ron's back.  He made a mental note to himself to study them the next time he got a chance.

As Harry's mind was brought back to the present. He gasped.  He felt tears prickling his eyes, and he brought his hand up to wipe them away.  He turned away, blushing.

Madam Pomfrey noted the gentle and intimate way that Harry had moved his hand over Ron's skin, and wondered.  Had the two boys been lovers?  She had never seen evidence that either boy was gay.

"Harry," she started.  "Please forgive an old woman's curiosity.  But were you in love with Ron?"  She hoped the boldness of the question would not embarrass him.

A faint smile played at Harry's lips, and he avoided Pomfrey's eyes.  "Yes, in a way, I was.  I feel as if a part of him is somehow tied to my soul."  Harry did not consider himself gay.  Rather, he had long ago settled on the idea that he may be bisexual.

“That is very sweet, Harry,” Pomfrey said.  “I had no idea that you were gay.  Your secret is safe with me.”

Harry gave a genuine laugh, and smiled at her.  “It’s no secret, but thank you.”  He paused.  “And I’m not gay, because I still like girls.  But I’m pretty sure I’m bisexual.”

“Did Ron know?”

Harry thought briefly.  “If he did, he never said anything to me.”  Now that he thought about it, Harry wished that he had told Ron.  A ping of regret stung his heart.

“Do you know of anyone who would like to help with this ritual?” asked Madam Pomfrey.

Harry was silent for a moment, his eyes not leaving Ron.  “I’ve thought about it.  I’m going to go back to the Common Room and ask the House this evening.  I’ll have an answer for you tonight before dinner.”

Madam Pomfrey gestured towards the door, and put a hand around Harry’s shoulders.

“I’ll be back, mate.  I promise.”

Without a backwards glance, Harry left the Hospital Ward.  As the door closed behind him, Pomfrey locked it once again, and stared in thought.

_He’ll be alright_ , she thought.  _He’ll be alright_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I originally had a "memory" from Harry in this chapter, which I removed. I removed it and turned it into its own story, called "Cum Once, Cum Twice". I removed it because it was too long, and wasn't central to the plot of "Preparing Ron". The story takes place as a memory from Harry's Third Year. "Cum Once, Cum Twice" will be two chapters long. Currently, chapter one is up, entitled "Ron's Cum".
> 
> I wasn't sure what to call this chapter. At first, I was going to call it "At First Sight", to commemorate Harry wanting so badly to see Ron. Then I added "Freckles" to the title because...well, let's face it: there's a ton of freckles in this chapter. ^_^ And we all love freckles. Thus, the name is "Freckles at first sight"
> 
> This story is looking to be about 4 chapters long in total. I have not yet decided if I am going to type of a Funeral Scene for the final chapter. However, if I do, there will be a couple of surprises. Hint: one involves Draco Malfoy! A cookie goes to the person who can guess what his role will be.
> 
> Thanks everyone for reading this story. It's turning out to be a bit easier than I thought. I knew I had to devide this up into multiple chapters when the word count surpassed 5,200 words and nearly 18 pages. Currently, I do not have anything from Chapter 3 typed up. However, I will work on it. I promise.
> 
> By the way, thanks for reading my other incomplete stories as well. All comments are greatly appreciated. Thank you!


End file.
